


In the Garden

by toadprince



Category: Promare (2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angst, Comfort, Eventual Sex, Fantasy, Fluff, Guardian Spirit Galo, M/M, Sorcerer Lio, a lot of cuddling after they quit scaring the crap out of each other, slow-burn, who wouldn't want a cuddly bear for a bf
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-30
Updated: 2020-08-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:09:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25605619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toadprince/pseuds/toadprince
Summary: Sorcerer Lio Fotia retreats to the mountains after he loses his magic in a decisive battle for the kingdom of Promepolis. Following his first winter alone, he finds company in a hungry bear.Forest spirit Galo Thymos wakes up one spring with quite the appetite. Things have been quiet since the war ended, and without anything to guard he takes up residence next to the cabin of one very peculiar man.Galo is a bear thru chapter 3(?)
Relationships: Lio Fotia & Galo Thymos, Lio Fotia/Galo Thymos
Comments: 25
Kudos: 74





	1. March

Magic was everywhere in the kingdom of Promepolis. That is, if you knew where to look for it.

For Lio Fotia, it was at the tips of his fingertips. It had been with him from the moment he opened his eyes. Others had to struggle, but for Lio it came as easy as breathing. Some even said it ran through his veins.

By the time the Battle of Promepolis was over, he had been bled dry.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. They had won, but he was alone. Rather, everyone had scattered to lick their wounds and recoil at the horrors that had unfolded that day. It had taken him months to heal. It was weeks screaming in agony as the long shadow of death stretched over him like premature night. 

It was a nightmare. It had to be. Every time he woke up, Lio found himself still living it. 

Even worse was the emptiness. It had taken days to find the energy to raise his hands, much less cast a spell. Nothing came. Lio couldn’t summon a single spark.

Surely with enough practice he could find his magic again. He could channel whatever sources were available and get back on his feet. It took days, then weeks, then suddenly the seasons had changed. Weak and defenseless, there was no work for him. Lio couldn’t do the one thing he had fought so hard for. No corrupt king nor assassin had any desire to keep a magic-less sorcerer. Especially one with information on how to destroy an entire kingdom.

Lio Fotia gave up. The emptiness was too much, and he retreated to the hills. The mountains had always been a magical place. _A fountain of magic for all those who sought it._ Now, they were empty. 

Lio was empty, too.

As empty as the mountains were, they weren’t devoid of life. At first, it was summer. Everything was ripe for the picking and his days were spent building, digging, gathering, and eating. A house. A garden. A handful of ducks to frustrate him. Lio mourned the loss of magic, but there was something else growing in its absence. He could still make things with his own two hands, albeit in a different way. Magic had never been as delicious as a crisp apple in autumn. Eat some for now, save some for later. There would be a later, this time. He worked and worked, exhausted by the time the sun was low in the sky. There was no time to miss friends, and even less to miss enemies.

The nights were long, and they only got longer with the approach of winter. The wood was wet. The fire wouldn’t start. In the past it had been as easy as snapping his fingers. It now took him hours, hands numb and shaking with cold. No one was around to hear his screams of frustration. He forgot about the warmth of the sun and the taste of fresh vegetables.

It wouldn’t end. The darkness brought cold, and even the sun was a watery, cold one. That first warm day had been a fluke. It gave him a false hope, and the following weeks were just as bitter as the months before. When the warm day came again, he was more cautious this time. Spring continued to hover outside the door, whispering promises in melting snow and creaking ice.

Being outside gave him gooseflesh, but it needed to be done. Taking notes and a shovel, he began his work. It felt like starting over. Lio had started over so many times now.

No, this time he wasn’t starting over. There were still plots of soft earth he had dug last year. The surviving ducks had grown plump into adulthood. The fruit trees needed pruning if they were to bear anything when the weather got hot again. His magic had never waxed and waned in the way the seasons did. For Lio it had always been warm, and he had never appreciated it in the way he now did.

There was something in the back of his pantry. Something he had been saving. In the dead of winter, he had looked upon it like a grim silver lining. His last jar of blueberries, syrupy and sweet. It was like he had bottled sunshine. This would be his last meal. Something good, to take away the sting of his final failure. Now the sunshine was back, and failure seemed to take a step back for a moment.

Yes. A blueberry pie— to celebrate.

The snow had only just melted, and there wouldn’t be fruit for another four moons at least. It would be a gamble; throwing away his last good meal.

Lio reasoned that a pie wasn’t even really a meal, just a dessert. He hadn’t had a dessert in a long time. Cutting himself a slice, the man sat down on the steps of his home. Spoon in hand, the plate on his knees looked better than anything he had seen in years. Better yet was the full dish sitting next to him.

It tasted like a memory of something he had forgotten, and screwed his eyes shut as he tried to remember. Something resembling happiness. Something that wasn’t cold and lonely and making a brave, vain attempt to survive.

When he opened his eyes, there was a bear sitting on the ground in front of him.

The warm spring breeze forgotten as he sat. Lio was frozen in place. The bear looked up and stiffened. The only thing on its mind was the sweet, buttery smell of the pie. Now, there was a human sitting across from him. A human whose expression shifted from absolute concentration to shock.

But the breeze brought back the smell of the pie again and it was torn, letting out a huff of indecision as its dark eyes shifted from Lio to the pan on the steps.

Lio couldn’t fight a bear. He wasn’t sure he could fight one with magic, much less a spoon. It was a scraggly, sleepy bear, but still enormous. The bear broke his gaze to sneak a sidelong glance back at Lio’s masterpiece. Then it turned back to Lio.

It was hungry.

He felt a bubble of indignation rise in his chest. I’m hungry, too. This was his pie, after all. He had saved it. Almost starved for it. Lio realized he would fight a bear. If it made any advances for his treasured pie, he might.

Bears were terrible things. They were fearsome, hairy and insatiable, but it didn’t make a motion to steal the food in front of him. The bear stood rooted to the spot, glancing between Lio and the pie for what felt like an eternity.

The bear was _asking._

No, it was begging. There was no dignity in that. They were a bear and a man deep in the mountains, not a dog by a dinner table. Lio did his best to ignore the large, round eyes of the bear. He indignantly scooped up a large chunk and shoved it in his mouth.

The bear watched like an impetuous child, snuffling and licking its lips as if it was saying why not me?

Lio tried not to move too quickly. He had already lost his magic; he wasn’t about to lose an arm. Reluctantly, he set the plate down on the ground in front of him. It was only a slice, and this bear acted so pitiful it might die.

It crept forward with the same nervous excitement, salivating and looking up at Lio the whole time. It’s long, terrible tongue reached out. The slice of pie disappeared in the blink of an eye. Lio’s eyebrows raised, watching how the bear smacked and slurped until it was sure there was nothing left.

It had been a long time since Lio had felt fear. Frustration, loneliness and desperation, sure. The rush of adrenaline was a foreign feeling to him, and made the back of his neck prickle in a way that reminded him of magic. Hands trembling, he slowly held out the spoon in front of him.

The bear was eager, but surprisingly gentle. When its mouth came down around the spoon, he could feel its breath on the back of his hand.

Lio felt something bordering hysteria. Had he lost his mind? There was a great, shaggy black bear sitting on his doorstep… and he was feeding it pie like an infant. He was enjoying it. Was he truly so starved for interaction that the company of a monster placated him?

He had been a monster, once.

They sat there for a while, trading bites and slow, nervous movements. Eventually Lio set the dish on the ground and let the bear lick it clean. When the plate was sparkling, the bear stared at it for a moment. There was no more pie. Lio felt its disappointment.

It was a greater blow when the bear hung its head and wandered off into the woods again.


	2. April

It had been a year. A year since he woke up screaming in white-hot fire and fear. It was a miracle they had been able to put him back together again. Maybe that’s where the last of his magic went. Lio wasn’t sure if he had burnt out or been extinguished. Perhaps the magic had fled, just as he had.

He squinted at the ceiling of his cabin, feeling tired before the day had started. Back then, the witch hunts had exhausted him. They had almost killed him. Running from place to place, trying to organize without getting caught… weeding and chasing the ducks around for an hour was nothing. Still, he used to have camaraderie and a solemn understanding of one another. It got him through the day.

Now, it was just him.

Self-sufficiency bolstered him with a quiet kind of pride, but on the cold nights he couldn’t keep his mind away from how there was no one to share the fire with. There were no hungry mouths waiting or quiet songs to sing to one another.

The last time he had felt that warmth had been weeks ago. It had made him human again. Even then, it hadn’t even been another person. It had been… well, a warm pie tin. Was this his life now? He was no stranger to breads and stews and fried vegetables. Still, something about that day reminded him that he was still alive.

Bread and cheese was a pleasant meal, but it really couldn’t hold up to that day. Lio inspected his plate, taking a bite and sighing. You couldn’t eat pie every day, he reasoned. He didn’t have the supplies and he would surely get so fat he would roll to the bottom of the hills.

Just as Lio had been thinking about the pie, a movement caught his eye. Over the rickety fence peered a familiar, furry face. The sight of the bear made him jump, but no more than it had the first time. He watched from the window, gripping the frame with white knuckles. 

It made its way through the yard, peering around almost as if it was looking for something. Probably pie. Or gods no— not the goat!

When it became apparent that there wasn’t anything to eat, it sat down stubbornly and waited for what felt like an eternity. Lio only breathed a sigh of relief when it finally retreated to the woods. Maybe once it learned there was no food it would leave him alone for good.

Unfortunately, it continued to come back on odd days at different times. It was almost as if it was looking for him. Lio started expecting it. The bear never came as close as it did on that day, but would make a few rounds of the house and disappear again. At first it was anxiety inducing. Every day he would sneak out into the yard, walking on eggshells so he could dart inside at any sign of the beast. Whether out of spite or exhaustion, he slowly allowed the bear to get closer. After a few weeks Lio allowed the bear to come into the garden, though not closer than the vegetable plot he had just finished.

The most irritating part wasn’t the odd times the bear would stop by. No, it was the way the bear would just sit and watch him for an hour or two. Almost as if Lio was _entertaining_ him. He wasn’t about to ask the bear to start pulling its weight. What would it do? Scratch the earth for worms? So Lio let it sit there, lazily watching him work in the morning sun.

Even without feeding it, the bear was persistent—loyal, even. It was strange to see, but sure enough at some point or another it would come lumbering through the gates. Perhaps he was a better cook than he thought.

In a strange way, it had become a welcome distraction from the isolation and anger he felt. He used to be swathed in leather and furs. Now he had only the cold floor to greet him in the mornings. That, and one very strange bear. After a while, he started talking to it. It was foolish, but somehow helped ease his anxiety of living in such close proximity. Lio had started doing it as a joke, complaining about the weather or even his recent failure with the kale sprouts. Soon enough he would mumble to them both as he worked, finding it more satisfying than talking to himself. It almost looked like it was listening, occasionally, though he chalked that up to his own madness.

The bear had started to fill out some, loosing some of the hollow hunger in its face. Even its coat was beginning to take on an oily black color, blue hues reflecting in the warm spring light. The winter had been hard on them both, apparently. Lio looked down at his own hands, noting his bony knuckles and pale wrists. What must the bear think of him? Luck for him, bears did not think much at all.

“You’re looking well,” he called out, not completely unaware of his newfound insanity.

_Thank you._

Lio looked up, violet eyes locking onto the bear in alarm. Maybe more unaware than he first thought. Was he hearing things now? Maybe it was the onions he was planting, though that seemed like a wives tale at best.

“You’re looking _fat,_ ” he tried again, voice high and sharp across the garden.The bear’s ear twitched in annoyance. Lio brushed it off as coincidence when the bear eventually put its head back down. 

The ducks seemed unbothered. Weren’t ducks supposed to be afraid of predators? They were foolish animals, and tended to panic if he did so much as sneeze. A few waddled close enough to browse in the weeds around its massive paws. Occasionally it would pick one up, allowing the fowl to pick underneath for worms. A courteous gesture… for a bear.

He threw the heel of the loaf towards the bear, and it leaned over to pick it up between strong jaws.

_Thank you._

Lio stared at his sandwich, trying not to react. “Can you say anything other than thank you?”

_Sleepy._

He paled and decided to not ask any more questions.

It had been so long since he had seen such powerful magic he wouldn’t know it even if it was standing in front of him. A few years ago Lio would have had the keen eye to notice that the bear’s eyes were blue and not black. He would have been able to notice that the bear wasn’t really a bear at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey this actually got kudos. thanks, i appreciate it.


	3. May

Lio heard the bear behind him. It had been coming around more often now, strolling through the garden. It had even crawled up on the porch once. More often than not it would come rest beside the plot he was working on, dark eyes lazily watching him thin beans and curse at the grubs. At first, it had startled him. The bear hadn’t been this close since their first encounter.

Despite their differences, it seemed perfectly comfortable to sit beside him. Lio was comfortable, too.

Since their almost-conversation a few weeks ago Lio kept his thoughts to himself. As long as he stayed quiet, he wouldn’t have to acknowledge that the bear was speaking. Just seeing that bear had facial expressions was enough to make him doubt his sanity. It would sit back on its haunches and almost look _entertained._ It’s too-round ears would perk up, jowls in concentration as the ducks chased each other around the wheelbarrow. Then its nose would twitch, and it would let out a little sigh of amusement before going back to laying under the cherry tree.

It had been a while since Lio had seen another human, so he chalked it up to the isolation. He had thought the ducks had developed their own personalities long before this. The bear was the same.

 _The bear_ this, _the bear_ that. It was interesting just how much of his internal monologue revolved around _the bear._ He even caught himself thinking about the blueish, blackish beast when he was making lunch. Lio had sworn he wouldn’t be feeding scraps to the wildlife, yet as time went on he found himself tossing leftovers towards the huge animal. Winter had been hard, but the second year was yielding better results. The spring onions were almost becoming a burden.

He couldn’t make something too sticky, it would get caught in its fur and then the bear would spend hours licking and smacking until it was clean again. He frowned, looking down at the crusts of toast left on his handkerchief. Bread would surely make the creature fat, but wasn’t that the point of being a bear?

“Do you have a name?” He finally conceded, tossing one of the dry pieces towards where _the bear_ was waiting patiently.

_Galo Thymos._

A startled laugh escaped Lio. It had been a long time since he laughed, even out of surprise. “That’s quite the name for a bear.”

The bear let out a huff, shaking out its glossy coat. It wasn’t offended, but rather prideful. _I’m not a bear._

Lio dropped the handkerchief, feeling his stomach leap up into his mouth. Had he lost all of his instincts over the past year? Even if the bear wasn’t a bear… he couldn’t even begin to guess what it was.

 _Do you think that a normal bear wouldn’t eat your ducks on sight?_ He planted his paws in the grass, looking pointedly at the pile of crusts.

“I—I thought I was going crazy.”

_Nope._

Lio started as the bear leaned forward, mouth boldly snapping at the bread in his lap. He dumped the scraps at his feet and scooted back a safe distance. “Why didn’t you say something sooner?” He was no longer afraid of _the bear_ but rather what _wasn’t a bear._

 _I’ve been asleep for five months. I was tired!_ The bear was now whining, as if Lio had broached a sore topic with him.

“Five—” Lio sputtered, “Five months? And you’re not a bear?”

The bear— _Galo_ sat back, puffing out its chest and disappearing the last of the bread into his mouth. _My name is Galo Thymos and I am the guardian spirit of the mountains this side of the Burning River. I protect, prevent, and serve the inhabitants of the area._ He had a deep voice, full of boastful energy.

“Genius loci,” Lio breathed, looking at Galo in a new light. Of course. How could he have missed—

 _If you want to be fancy about it._ There it was again. The way his ears sat atop his head, aloof. Amused. 

“They’re white stags with golden horns or— or panthers with claws made of steel!” He objected, “You’re just a bear!”

The amusement disappeared. Galo sat up on its haunches suddenly. He was tall enough to look Lio in the eye. The smug, cavalier attitude was gone. _And a fat one too, I’m sure! You’re just some crazy hermit with a death wish, what would you know._

“At least I’ll starve with dignity, not begging like a dog at a dining table,” he snapped up the handkerchief, shaking out the crumbs and stuffing it into his back pocket. Lio frowned. It stung because it was true.

Galo looked almost surprised and sat back down. _Starve? Hardly._

“You’ve seen my garden.” He scoffed and kicked the bucket at his feet, though not enough to knock it over. “Scraps, really.”

 _I was expecting to find another empty cabin and a shallow grave this spring. Instead I found you, and your pie._ Galo’s ear twitched, betraying his sincerity. _The pie was good._

He was supposed to die. That had been his fate in the battle, and it had been his fate this winter. And yet he had lived. He felt a tiny spark of pride in his chest, though it wouldn’t even light a candle. “And what about me?”

The bear made a snuffling sound, resembling something like laughter. _You are good, too._

As time went on, Lio noticed himself speaking less. Before, it had been out of stubborn refusal to accept that the bear— _Galo Thymos_ —was talking. Now, it was so he could listen to Galo. In fact at times, it was hard to get the bear to shut up. More than once he had been trying to focus on snapping off fresh new fronds sprouting up around the cottage, but caught himself listening to Galo’s deep voice instead. The greens couldn’t wait, but it was impossible to ignore the racket he made rustling around in the bushes. He had to stifle his laughter when Galo crashed through a thicket of thorny angelica, rumbling voice rising to irritated surprise. That night they both salivated over the fried vegetables, fried in duck fat and slathered in fresh ground ramps. The sun waited until they were tired before it set.

If he was a man Lio could have just as easily blocked him out, but something about Galo’s way of communicating made it impossible to ignore. He would prattle on about the seasons, the weather, and everything under the sun. Recently he had taken to narrating the ducks as if they were knights in a jousting competition.

It was funny.

“Why do you keep coming back,” he ventured one day. The bear didn’t respond at first. It was a long enough silence Lio thought he might not be able to speak at all. Going crazy was easier when you didn’t have anyone else around to tell you any different.

 _I like watching you work._ Galo answered after a while, staring over towards the ducks. _Your cooking is good. Better than acorns and berries._

“You seem to like blueberries just fine,” Lio shot back.

The bear looked over at him with a frightening intensity. _Do you have any?_

“Not until next month, at least.”

His disappointment was apparent, and Lio tried not to smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love fried fronds so much it hurts.
> 
> As always, thanks for the kudos, comments, and bookmarks. Your support means a lot.

**Author's Note:**

> A pizza is a kind of pie, right?


End file.
